Disclaimer: The characters of the Stephanie Plum Series belong to Janet Evanovich and are used here without permission. No copyright infringement is intended.
Note: Back in January (week 1, I believe), there was the Resolution challenge. In that I had Tank resolving that he would work with Stephanie and not get injured before the end of the year. I’ve already written about the first attempt. This is the second one. The first two stories, It Will Never Happen and The First Attempt, can be found by clicking on the story title or at my Story Index.
Rating: Suitable for all ages
Feedback: Email TT
It Will Never Happen - The Second Attempt
By TT
The cool hiss of the air conditioner was the only audible sound as the large man in the small hospital bed lay perfectly still, eyes closed, breathing even.
In the hallway outside existed the understated shuffle of feet and murmuring voices that signaled nighttime, or, more specifically, very early morning.
In the chair beside the bed sat a waiting figure. With Lula out of town, and Stephanie finally lured away from Tank’s bedside with the promise of Ella’s cooking, the job of staying with Tank fell to a rotating schedule of men.
The still form took a deep breath, a sure sign of waking. A moment later, large brown eyes opened and took in the surroundings.
Lifting up a hand, Tank rubbed his eyes and let out a soft curse. “How bad?” he managed to ask, his voice still rough from sleep and made worse by the dryness in his throat.
The man in black by the bedside passed a sport bottle filled with water to his friend. “The doctor said you could leave in the morning. You have a mild concussion, a sprained ankle and a fractured wrist. Externally, you have a nasty rope burn on your hand and a burn on your leg from where they removed the tar.”
Tank took in the report and nodded his head slightly. It could be worse. It could be much worse. He would be in the office until the fracture healed, and off his feet until the sprain was gone, but, overall, he wasn’t too bad at all.
The silence stretched a few seconds before the next question came. “What made you do it, man? Was it that New Year’s resolution? You know it’s never going to happen. You’ll never get through a day with Bombshell without getting injured.”
Tank’s jaw clenched slightly. There had been a certain amount of pride involved in trying to get through a day with Stephanie without getting injured. He had never failed on a New Year’s resolution and he refused to believe that he would fail on this one.
“What exactly happened, anyway? Even Bombshell isn’t talking on this one.”
Tank thought back to the previous morning.
“Stephanie is going after Marco DiMarco,” Ranger announced at the meeting. “She’s asked for some help. Since I have the Carter meeting this morning, I’m asking for a volunteer to help her out.”
“I’ll go,” Tank stated before anyone else could speak.
Silence reigned in the room for several seconds. It was a silence born of shock.
Ranger’s shock quickly turned to disbelief as he asked, “Are you sure?”
Tank looked offended. He did not get injured every time he worked with Stephanie and he would prove it today. Marco DiMarco was a slime, but he wasn’t harmful - at least, not to someone like him. Given DiMarco’s size relative to Stephanie’s, he did pose a threat to her. It was good to see Bombshell finally asking for help when she needed it. “What time should I meet her?” he asked.
The issue was closed and the meeting soon dismissed.
Tank ignored the looks on his co-worker’s faces as he left the building to help Stephanie out. Normally, he’d be looking forward to meeting Stephanie because he’d get a chance to see Lula too. Unfortunately, Lula and Connie were on a “girl’s retreat”. He had no idea why Stephanie hadn’t gone, but her being in Trenton would give him a chance to talk to someone else about his girl and what she might be doing on this vacation. He really missed Lula.
He met Stephanie in the garage where she switched cars from her current bucket of bolts – held together with bubblegum, bailing wire and wishful thinking – and into his Rangeman issued 2008 Ford Expedition. It might get lousy gas mileage, but at least he fit into it.
They had set off. Stephanie had heard from some of her contacts that Marco would be at the beach in Point Pleasant. So, off to the shore they went.
Tank had never understood the attraction of the beach in hot weather. If it was hot, the last place you wanted to be was somewhere open and without shade. But, people seemed to flock to the beach.
As they arrived, the two of them cruised down the streets until Stephanie saw Marco on one of the public beaches.
Pulling into the parking lot, Tank turned off the SUV and stepped out.
The sun was beating down on them. No one seemed to want to move. Even the waves were barely lapping the shore.
There was no other way to explain it. It was hot. In fact, it was so hot that the tar they used to patch the parking lot had become a sticky, gooey mess. The rope that had been strung to separate the parking lot from the beach looked as if it was going to start smoking at any second and Tank could already feel sweat popping out on his skin. Thank goodness Lula liked him with a shaved head.
Finding Marco didn’t prove to be too much of a challenge.
Once he got a look at Tank, getting him to come along had been easy as pie.
Then, they got to the parking lot.
Things were going well. They were almost to the SUV and then, it happened.
DiMarco side-stepped to avoid a spilled slushy. Tank, walking behind the skip hadn’t seen the hazard.
When DiMarco moved, Tank followed as best he could.
In the heat, the slushy had melted across one section of patching tar, cooling it and making it slick.
Tank happened to step on it in such a way that his foot slipped.
As his foot shot out from under him, the hand that wasn’t guiding the skip flew out sideways, landing on the rope separating the parking lot from the beach.
His momentum, though, caused him to crash to the ground, his hand running along the rough rope, causing a severe rope burn across his palm, his head catching the corner of the front bumper of a nearby Accord and, his weight having unbalanced DiMarco, caused the skip to come crashing down on top of him.
Just as the world began to turn gray, he felt a burning on the back of his leg. He had just enough time to register some of the partially-melted tar had stuck to his leg before he lost consciousness.
Looking at the man sitting in the chair, Tank just shook his head. There was no way he was going to admit that a slushy brought him down.
End (for now)